Completely Broken
by Xx-the 99th-xX
Summary: Natasha is unknowingly breaking untold brainwashing methods from the KGB and it's up to Hawkeye to break her moral compass before she wrecks havoc all over S.H.E.I.L.D. BlackHawk! Rated T-M. Pairing later on! Updating has delayed sorry!
1. Rage

**Spelt her name wrong several times due to being in VERY foreign waters... Ignore that fact please! **

* * *

My heart pounds like the first day in the Red Room, blood staining the side of my face mixing into my hair, I stand helplessly pushing myself to the peak of physical exhaustion. Anger and hate taking over my moral compass, but twitching just enough to the North of Evil to let my stained ledger be unharmed.

'Don't do this to yourself Natasha, you're only as good as your will to live free is.' Steve yells from the story above me. He watches, looking at me with a fire in his eye. Men lay before me, not dead, just tired and sore from trying to put out a common nasty bush fire. I sear a look of hate at Captain America above me as he inspects my most current out break.

I ignore his inspection and focus on the blood cut on my lip. It will probably scar like so many I posses. I feel my quads start to give out on me; low iron in my blood starts to make me see tunnel vision. The alarm sounds and a few more men rush threw the entrance of the gymnasium.

"Stand down Romanova," one of the guard's shouts holding a tazer set to stun. "Tsk..."

"NATASHA," Iron Man emerges opening his facemask.

"Get lost," I spit at him kicking the guard before me. With every punch I receive, I tense my muscles hoping to absorb the impact. Ultimately I wince and elbow the man kicking him to the opposite wall the two Avengers stand.

"Don't make us come down Natasha, you just need to sleep, your too tired to think," Steve yells back as I watch a few guards leave the gym limping knowing I won't kill them.

"I am not," I bark back punching a staggered man back to the ground.

A whirlwind of emotions flood my locked heart, my head pounds, and numbers start flying through my mind.

Why? Why are they in French? The third language stings my aching body, a cold rush of hate and evil runs up my spine and images of a room filled with TV's take over my vision.

Un... Deux... Trois... Quatre... The numbers count up to who know what then repeat again louder and louder.

Besides the blurred vision, the constant repetitive ring of the alarm stops. Another good punch at a guard with the hilt of my empty gun I lose my eyesight for good now and my legs give out completely. The French numbers ring threw my ears and sight. The feel of a bruise forming on my forehead stings sympathy pains, I fall to the floor hitting the exact spot. Feeling exhausted physically and mentally the background sounds of more men's feet hit the floor surrounding me.

"I… ughh… hate the Red Room…" I grunt out feeling cold metal pick me up and flesh caress my bruised and battered arm.

Pictures of housekeepers throwing a uniform at me pounds at my head, another small memory of my first kill flash threw. I was so happy that day. I was frost bitten and battered left on the outdoor training grounds, left to kill my roommate. Suddenly nothing. Memories stop flooding and stars appear in my mind. The night sky and the soft sounds of nothing shroud my exhausted mind.


	2. Realization

**Wow! Thanks guys for the alerts! This one a little longer, but I have never been good at long chapters. Line breaks are POV switches. **

"How long has she been comatose for?" Steve asks as he fiddles around with his pen staring at the incident report. Number 5 at the top of the page, similar to the other reports only, she has never gone comatose before. Just a few blood spats and a pat on the back calmed her down just enough for her boiling blood to cool off before other members of the Avengers team hear about it.

"2 or 3 days," Tony replies as he reads his latest issue of Stark Magazine. A couple of ruffles and a crunch later he finishes off his pack of Blueberries.

Steve sighs, "do any of the other avengers know about this?" he asks with a worried tone. The same tone he always has when he thinks too much.

Tony leans over the kitchen table cocking his head, "you know, for an assassin she's worse the hulk at times. I'm starting to smell a hint of narcissism...?"

"No, that's you tony, you're describing yourself. This is serious though..."

"It's always serious, why can't you let the assassin punch it out? I bet when you're one of the only people, let alone women who have to deal with the KBG..."

"Shut-up Stark," he cuts off, "don't push it," Steve says sternly, shifting in his chair.

Tony just glares down from his magazine, "fine."

"Anyway, does anyone else know about this current report?" Steve asks more concerned.

Iron Man doesn't reply but cocks his eyebrows and turns his chair around. "Fine," Steve stands up agitated and collects the papers to the folder.

"None of them do. I would suggest not telling any of them unless you want a rouge assassin on you. Trust me, it's not worth it," Stark stops dead cold, as he glances up at the reflection of his terrified teammate in the window. Steve shudders and collects the rest of the papers ready to brought to Nick.

Tony shakes his head and spins around to go see if any of the Avengers wanted to spar to keep attention away from the incident. "Jarvis?" he calls just before he turns off the rooms light. "yes sir?" the computer replies from Tony's ear piece. "Call Clint, we need to chat. Broadcast it threw my private satellite." The sounds of the Bluetooth attachment rings threw as he walks towards the onboard infirmary.

_If anyone can help from another outbreak, it's Clint. Hmm, I wonder what Pepper is up to?_

* * *

'_How many times must we have to tell you?'_

'_Once sir.'_

'_CORRECT, get over there and don't get caught again.'_

'_Yes, sir.'_

'_NO, GO.' _

_The cold bites at my ears and fingers as the heat of my frustration and hate sets into my heart. It's nearly 3 in the morning and no dinner was given. I fiddle with the GPS looking for the best place to hide from the training guards. I look above me, up to the stars above and watch a Soviet Union satellite rush by. _

'_trois, minutes left. Over'_

_Why is he speaking another language? _

'_What? Over'_

'_Maybe you should keep up and learn the numbers. Over'_

'_Sorry sir, are those a test?'_

'_Learn them and it's Over dammit. You never know when you are going to need them. Over'_

_I listen to his awful rant and think of all the times he has used this new language before me. It has only been a few times, as he alternates between it and our own._

'_Behind you. Over'_

_I turn around and feel a small dagger pierce my flesh; I jump back and fall into a shroud of guards guns pointed at me ready to fire._

My eyes open wide and I bolt upright feeling my muscle tense in my left arm. A flash of numbers fly threw my eyesight. Squinting now, I see a butterfly needle in my arm and an exasperated nurse not knowing what to do with herself. "Agent, please sit back!" she pleads placing her hands on my arm. Bloods gushing everywhere but I lay back feeling the loss of blood go to my head.

My eyes flutter trying to adjust to the light again.

"How long has she been out?"

"A few minutes, must have been from seeing the blood?"

"Hmm, well at least she's out of it. Make sure the bandage is replaces in 15 minutes."

"Yes, doctor."

A door clicks shut as I see a blurry figure walk out. My head pounds from the loss of blood.

* * *

"You in yet?" I ask as Jarvis click the phone from my earpiece to the Iron Man suit.

"Yeah, just landed. What's wrong?" Clint asks with a tone of tiredness falling over him.

"Nothing, meet me in Gym A we should spar a few rounds with my extra suit," I ask knowing the suit is locked in my bedroom as a briefcase.

"Tony, I just got in, I'm going to sleep before anyone does anything," Clint replies with the sounds of gear hitting the floor on his line.

"No, no, I understand. You should see something though. End," I say ending the call. I open my mask and stare at the bloodshed before me. Daggers and drops of blood splatter the floor. Tazers and guns lay in a pile as a few janitors work ever so slowly and carefully to clean the mess.

"Whats the matter with you Sta... ark? What happened when the rest of us were out?" Clint asks inspecting the weapons amongst us.

"Don't take a blind date out now, it's happened before..." I sigh closing my mask ready to take a punch.

"It has?" He doesn't punch, just shifts his weight and move his fingers threw his blood toiled hair.

I look around a bit, "yeah. I'm not actually supposed to tell anyone this, but Fury told me when it first happened, it was for me to keep the ship safe from harm."

"Harm from what?" he asks shaking his head.

I pause for a good minuet and breathe uneasily, "Natasha," I say slowly, ready to watch him go mental.

He still does not move. "What? How could she do any harm to this ship? She may just be an assassin but that does not mean she can take on the contents of this machine!" he looks even more exhausted. More mentally than physically but bags form under his eyes. He rubs them then stocks around me hands on his head.

"Where is she?" he asks. His eyes lunge up towards mine then he takes a bolt for it.

"Ahah, no Hawkeye. Not a good idea," I beat him to the door holding my arm out to block him.

"Why? Where is she then?" anger flushes over his face, desperate to see his partner safe and sane.

"Comatose," I say knowing I should stop saying one word answers. His eyes widen and staggers back a bit, blood drips from his open cut on his head. "Woaw, there, you better get that cut fixed before we join her at bed hand."

He nods and accepts my invitation to help keep him stable. Slowly we walk towards the first aid kit in the glass case on the wall to fix his head before I nudge him towards his room to sleep. We sit down against the wall with the kit in hand, as I collect the blood down the side of his face with a tissue.

"I guess I can't tell anyone else," he sighs depressingly. I nod taking my helmet off. "Why did you tell me Stark?" he asks as I dig in the first aid kit. I look up with fatigue from my own lack of sleep.

"She grunts about the Red Room just before she passes out. A few days ago though, she went into coma before we could get her to her room to sleep it off. I know you rescued her from that place before, so I... I thought you could do it again," I whisper knowing this is probably as deep as I will ever get. I rip a tiny little band-aid and push his cut together with it to help close it.

He nods then closes his eyes in thought. Wiping the blood off my metal suit, I watch him drift into sleep. Snickering I pick him up gently to take him to his room. _Blackmail material! _

**Sorry this was mostly about Starks Point of View but I hope to get the next chapter up in the next week or so. I've been procrastinating and don't worry BlackEye is up next. Also I don't own these characters I forgot to point out. **


	3. Hospital Bed

** I am 'shipping' this pairing a ton. I saw that the feelings were there, but well hidden in the movie so I'm trying to apply this to their thoughts as well without making it long. Sorry if it's any OOC because the info wasn't given during the film.**

I wake up to the morning sun, the bed is soft and fluffy, and pain shoots all over my body. My neck is stiff and my head pounds like Hulk on Loki. I shift around ready to hop out of here and sleep in my own bed, there is curtains there and then I can be free to talk to others. _If only I could tell Clint I might not feel so cramped in here. Tsk.._

I hear muttering beside me but ignore it and look away. I lift up my right hand and reach for the open card to just briefly read it before I leave it alone. _I am sorry Agent; we cannot have these disputes any longer. When you read this, it may be a couple of days then or a couple of months. When you wake, we will discuss proper procedures for this. You best be lucky you didn't actually kill anyone. Get well soon. Nick._

"Pffsht," I huff setting the card back down. "What does he mean by months?" I say quietly. Shaking my head, I look over towards the door. A nurse is standing at my bedside fixing water that is apparently flowing into my body. "You were in Coma Agent, for a few days. I'm just taking all the life supports out since your now awake you won't be needing them." I nod and process this, I think of everything I was supposed to do.

"Shit," I slam my right hand against my forehead. "Something troubling?" the nurse asks fiddling with the needle hook up in my left arm. I feel a little light headed and close my eyes. "I had a mission. I missed it." I say stating the brief. I missed one of the missions I was supposed to take with Stark. That's a cut in my paycheck...

The nurse nods then places everything on a cart. "You're going to need to stay in here for another day or two to make sure everything is functioning properly," she looks at me with a weird look, "can you move your arm?"

I stare down at my left arm, "It's numb, and can't really do anything with it."

She smirks, "you were stabbed in the Bicep there, where it's been bandaged," I look over to the bloody bandage, "it will probably take a week for it to heal completely. You will need a sling to keep it from moving too much." I nod then turn over towards the window looking at the morning sky.

A few numbers flash threw my head and the image of Stark Tower replaces my vision. The numbers I hear start to flash threw a screen on the tower where the A sits. The French spelling are placing themselves all over the A. I grunt opening my eyes again thinking about the numbers. What the hell does this mean? Anger sets threw my veins; I clench my fist tight to stop from flipping the nurses upside the head if they enter again. Memories of being scolded for the bloodshed I caused on multiple missions, the numbers hurt my head. The heat of my anger sets on my face. It is hard to contain my sliver of hate for S.H.E.I.L.D I suppressed when I joined, when these stupid numbers keep flashing threw my mind. Opening my eyes wide, "oh shit," and pass out from dizziness.

* * *

"Tasha," I shout out gruffly and flip myself upright. Sweat hydrating the blood on my face, starts to trickle down my face and neck. Hearts racing I breathe deeply. There's blood on my hands and all over my body. I scratch at my dried blood and get up slowly to wash it off in the shower. I chuck everything into the hamper violently and with a thud, I sit in the bathtub reaching for the water knob turning it on. My forehead stings, blood and sweat starts to flow down into the drain.

_Coma? Not her. I cannot tell anyone else? Ugh, whatever. So not, like Budapest. Heh, heh. _ I do my regular routine a little faster than usual to see the little assassin and hear her current condition from one of the nurses. I throw on a black tee shirt and dark wash jeans.

_I can save her again. How can I do that when she locks herself from the outside world? Despises emotions, even tears of joy I have never seen. I wanted to spar with her, but now I have to spare the pain. I don't understand TONY... _

Slowly I creep towards the infirmary the floor above the housing unit. Hoping to not run into anyone of actual importance to keep me from seeing her. Thinking of all the times she has smiled, it's not much, but it will do if I can make her smile again. I miss the days we would spar knowing we were equally matched, the bets we would make, the random conversations we would have, only made it harder to see her as just a friend.

I push on the Red Cross on the door; a few nurses look puzzled but continue working. Fixing files and organizing medical supplies. I just nod when they shoot a look of question as I look for her name on the door hooks.

_The doors closed... Should I knock? Stupid, she's comatose. _

I put my ear to the door when the nurses don't look.

_Nothing. I guess I will just enter, shut the door and hope for a better day._

Slowly I open it quietly and shut it behind me. A wave of emotions hit me the second I see her again. Her face calm even when in hell, so far from my reach hurts even more. Her chest raises with every breath gracefully, the bruised forehead, and the stitches from cuts and gashes reside all over an unwelcome home.

_Shit, her arm._ I make my way for the chair at bedside and examine the bandage. _Looks painful Talia._ I look up at her peaceful rest, my face muscles sting from my worrisome frown. _I, I have to go Talia. If I stay, it might just hurt more. _I stand up from the chair and hesitate a second. My balance is off, my heart pounds with pain and wonder of what happened. Slowly, I step back. "I'll be back soon, don't hesitate to wake up now," I whisper. If I stay here any longer, I will most likely start crying like a child.

Losing one of my best friends this kind of way, is harder than losing a thousand dollar bill by the wind. I know I can just work towards re-earning it again, but I might never hold her again. I feel nauseous from the info binging at me like this. So fast, too quick it hurts to feel this way. I cannot decide, if it a feeling more or a feeling less. It is stuck like a record player, my mind not going anywhere.

I open the door slowly and shut it as quietly as I can so the nurses do not hear me. I hesitate a moment, my stomach hurts. Food, it shouts for me like whispers in a heated discussion. I sigh and start towards the Kitchen A, where the team eats. Thor might be there; he usually eats a horse early and does not stop until maybe a few of us dangle off. There sight might relieve me a little.

"How is she?" I hear stepping out of the Infirmary. I look up with a staggered reaction, "fine, fine," I say to Tony. He's wearing a polo with fancy shoes and jeans. He just nods, "spar you a little before breakfast?" I glare at him, how disrespectful, "how can anyone fight when something so awful happened?" I ask annoyed. He just shakes his head.

"I'm eating, you can go fight Steve or something," I say casually walking down the hall. I feel a hand on my shoulder, "Steve knows too, he only knows about this one time." I feel a shake of grief and pause a moment, "I'll be there when she wakes up," I say not wanting to continue this conversation, he nods and we continue without speaking. He must know it's making be sick. I am sure he would be too if this happened to Pepper, even if they are together.

I take a standard routine. Casually having mental breakdowns when I'm not doing anything important, my target practice was hopeless, and all I could think about was what I was going to say. Imagining her waking up, and all sorts of scenarios.

"3 out of 20 Hawkeye, not good," the gym supervisor yells from the sideline.

I nod depressingly and gather my thing to head back and change out of my work clothes. I throw everything on the ground and change into a pullover hoodie and jeans. Nearly 8 I walk to the infirmary with nothing in hand. The ship doesn't have anything that's not weapons or devices, it makes me feel even worse about it. The nurses look at me oddly again, the second time round but nod their heads as I pass them by. I walk in hesitantly.

Still asleep, I sit down even more depressed than before. A few hours should be sufficient, tomorrows my break day and it's not like my partner will be here to chatter a storm up with me. Slowly, I sit down and fall back into my chair. Blank I draw so I stare at her hair for a while, almost drifting off to the sound of the heart monitor.

"SHIT," I hear.

I look up to a distressed assassin, sweating and panting.

"Holy Stark," I yell scared witless grabbing the heart monitor behind me.

Slowly, in shock I let go of the machine. "You're awake?" I ask quivering like Loki.

She nods clutching the bedside. She shivers violently, "just a dream."

"I thought you were in Coma? Just lay back, don't hurt yourself," I say confused as hell.

"I was, but I woke up this morning. I sort of passed out when I couldn't feel my arm though," she does not really crack a smile but her arm looks swollen and freshly wrapped with a new bandage. She shifts in the bed calming down for a minute or two and reaches for something. She nods holding the card, "look at how enthusiastic Nick is about me," she frowns handing me a card still shaking.

I smirk reading it. I get up and round the bed putting it back where it was and walk back over.

"You could have handed it to me," she frowns.

I nod, "what happened when I was gone? Tony told me you fought, but..."

She sighs and closes her eyes, "my head hurts, and it was hurting a few days ago too. I started hearing these stupid numbers, in French. At some point, it clouded my vision and I got violent. I don't want to be relieved from here Clint. I'm not crazy."

She cringes her nose up and brushes her hand threw her hair. So I reach for her left, "it's alright. At least you are awake. You really wiped the smile off my face," I say looking at her expression. She settles a little but looks at my hand on hers.

* * *

_He's... why can't I feel him? Stupid numbing needles. _I look up to his worried expression and close my eyes again.

"What time is it?" I ask as the French spelling of the numbers wiz by in my head. "10:15," he says rubbing his thumb on my hand. I start to feel a prickling sensation from the meds kicking out.

"How long you been here?" I ask opening my eyes again.

"Uhh, since 8:30," he stutters not knowing what to say, I sort of smile as the numbers start to disappear.

"I guess this sort of shocked you?" I ask eyes fixated on his hair. He nods, "what's been happening with numbers? How come I didn't know sooner?" he asks worriedly.

"I was ordered not to say, but I wanted to, if these stupid numbers wouldn't come and linger around my head I wouldn't be so angry right now," I say and the heart monitor beats slightly faster now.

He just nods thinking for a while, so I break the silence, "doctors say my white blood cell count is high. I assume this is from stress about the numbers."

He nods again, "doctors are funny people," he smirks. I smirk back and rub my tired eyes, "you think I'm crazy hey?" I ask the awkward looking Clint.

"No, why are they French?" I just shrug, "in the Red Room they often switched from French and Russian when saying numbers. Now though, I don't know what would spark its annoyance." We both don't speak for a minuet, but look down at our hands in a comfortable silence as the time ticks by late into the night.

**So, a little long with the talking. Leave a little review, follow me or something just hope your enjoying this! Don't bash me if you do lol I know my Grammer or spelling is bad if you find any. **


	4. Waking

"Clint," I rather ask, he does not look up but twiddles with violent approach with his watch. We just passed over another time zone and he's bent on always setting the time.

"You should get some rest, you look like shit," I say hoping to get a smile on him. He fiddles some more but finally looks up with a smirk, his eyebrow cocked up and ready to throw back another comeback. "Look who's talking," he smirks some more. I just wave it away with my hand and turn towards the clock, 11:15 it reads but my head spins some more.

Tomorrow I have to talk to Fury, so I probably won't have a good sleep even if I tried. Different scenarios already play in my mind as Hawkeye here insists on keeping me company. Not a bother if he does, just random that he will not move or really speak.

"I don't want counselling from someone I don't know, I want someone I know to listen to me," I sigh finally saying something on my mind hoping for him to stop being so awkward.

Counselling would only shut me up more; it hurts to think of the Black Widow program as it is, the things they did and never got away with would only scream terror to the poor psychologist. I wouldn't want to scare them, even if they won't to school for these types of things, getting into people's heads on their behalf. Heavily sighing from thinking too much Bucky boy finally says something.

Fingers interlocked, he leans over a tad and studies my face like all those years ago on his failed mission. "That was a bad era; they can't exactly boot you off the team for something another person did to you either. Side effects to a drug you took for an illness, it is like a reaction at work. They have to ask you if you would like help. Say yes, it is at least an excuse to lay low for a while right?" He looks worried, but confident about it.

"Euh, s, sure..." I squeak out unable to find my voice and praying he would hold my hand again. He smiles sweetly towards me; it only makes my stomach tingle. Usually, if this happens I would probably punch myself and scold for letting emotion in. Now I cannot do that so the windows my best bet. I smile back, casually look towards the widow and shift in the bed. You can just see the edges of the clouds in the dark sky, like a painting in a dimmed room it glows with a kind of robust hate.

* * *

"You know Agent, that this is serious don't you?"

I stand before a few bodyguards and Nick. He sits on an office chair with a piece of cake in front of him. Over kill if you ask me, since it is almost Lunchtime and my stomach ache's for food.

"Of course Fury," I reply using my business voice I, used years back as Peppers assistant. I use it quite often now than I ever did before. It tends to piss people off when they are serious but ignorance is all I have with me.

"Look, I'm glad you're safe and alright but we can't have these disputes any longer," he rants on and on. He never stops talking about the same thing; 'we need to do something with you'. Constantly asking if I need more missions even though I am on one one after the other all day everyday and it's painful to listen. My eye twitches in anger, numbers are wising by like a little fly in my right ear.

"So what now?" I ask trying to stay calm and collected. My vision cuts in and out from different painful memories to just black, yet my hearing stands strong.

"Beg your pardon," he looks at me a little disturbed by me cutting him off, vision now blurred my head spins a bit.

"I live, in fear and anger, these numbers won't leave and all you can think about is everything but the big picture? There is a problem, and you want discipline? Look for the solution, that's what Hawkeye did," I almost scream at him, my stomach yells to stop but I just stare at his child like expression as I clutch the top of long boardroom table. The buzzing gets a little louder but stays in my right ear while my vision slowly starts fading back into reality.

Were both silent for a minute and he starts with a headshake, "yes, your right."

I stare at him angry and confused by his answer with a small flashback of a white room in russia. He sighs and waves to the bodyguards, relieving them of duty. Nodding they walk through the doors guns pointed down, with a sigh on their faces.

Fury turns back around with a blank expression, "what numbers?"

Rage heats up inside me as if he just somehow does not know. Tony partially knows, but come on.

"I'm going to counselling," I start dully. "I'm going to someone who understands me, and doesn't have heart attacks when something small goes down."

He sits there with confusion all over his face, "there will be no bloodshed, no blood, no scratches, no cuts, no bruise bumps or thither off to do any of these things. You hear me agent?"

We stare at each other now for a good minuet, our faces clutched with anger.

"Fine," I stand up straight locking my joints with hate. A little white lie couldn't hurt to get out of this situation.

He just stares at me as I slowly make my way for the door seeing tunnel vision now.

"Agent," he calls and I turn towards him blankly, "whatever floats your boat, don't get too wrapped up with work, if whatever helps you stop these disputes I'll send you on a light Intel mission."

I nod confused but continue out the door ignoring him. "Not kicked off the team," I sigh relieved but the buzzing of numbers grows louder.

_Wonder what everyone is up to? _

I start for the kitchen uneasily.

Thor is stuffing his face with pop tarts, Captain D is reading his old book but no one else is there. With a sigh, I start for the fridge pulling out butter and cramming the toaster with bagels. All 4 spots on the fancy machine and wait. I sit over on the window seats lifting my legs and resting myself against the iron support beam. We drift over the Canadian Rockies now as we head to our Canadian base to refuel with eco friendly crap and add more solar panels. Living off Bagels and Kraft Dinner is not the best when you are out on missions a lot. I almost dove into a ration pack the other day hoping for the taste of anything but Mac n cheese. I decided to hold off knowing it would not fill me.

* * *

'_Stop squirming child,' Boris hollers threw a concealed window. _

_There is medical equipment everywhere, sterilized needles lying in the open and machines beeping. Fear hangs over the child's face as she's been tied to a table. A nurse gruffly coughs but continues injecting the needle with a clear serum. He hands it to the Doctor. _

'_This won't hurt a bit!' she lies stabbing the child with it in the arm. She holds back tears, face turning red with fear. _

_The Doctor pulls the needle out and everyone shifts uneasily back curiously inspecting the girl. She shivers but passes out. _

'_Fuck,' he yells threw the window again and stomps out of the dark room. Stomping he rages his hand back and backhands her cheek. Her face burns with a hand print and cries out in pain, no tears just anger._

'_Guess what?' he asks, she just stares hatefully, looking into the spitting image of a monster._

'_Your fit to train until you die,' he says laughing evilly and storms out leaving her to heave chunks all over the examination table._

* * *

My eyes open wide and to my surprise I huff in filling my lungs completely and shudder out the CO2. Staring at the Iron support beam in front of me my gaze slowly moves towards the open kitchen. Captain, Thor, Maria and Clint all stare at me uneasily. I feel ice grow up my spine, making me shiver violently. The stinging image of Stark Towers burns into my mind now but I focus onto the air in front of me.

"Natalia?" Clint raises his voice a bit to me. I don't exactly hear him well, the buzz of French numbers are creeping from my ears towards the A of Stark Towers Logo. He bursts out of his seat and rushes to my side holding my shoulder I still shake. I can feel my jaw clamping shut as the buzz grows louder and louder until it screams at me. Next thing I know I can feel myself being supported by Clint and walked somewhere.

* * *

Slowly, I open my eyes again to a familiar room. _Clint? Why am in your room? Wait... _"Clint?" I call out into the room; my eyes are slow to adjust to the light.

I feel a hand caress my cheek as I fade in and out of sleep. I force my eyes open. _What the hell..._ Maria is checking my temperature and pulse. Her hand drifts towards my cheek she looks just as confused as I am. I furrow my brows and just stare at her like there is something on her face. I squint screaming at myself not to punch her.

"Your hurt," she says tracing the side of my face. I feel nothing but her finger still moving slowly up to the edge of my head where the bruise was. All that's left is a few stitches and a scab forming. _Why the hell does she care? _She sighs and lightly squeezes my shoulder. She looks away quickly and get up ready to leave. I just close my eyes feeling a light burning sensation from where her finger traces and a handprint on my cheek.

**Sorry, I had to stop here! Excuse my misspellings with her name if I didn't catch them all.**


	5. Ideas

I gaze over to the bedside clock, it's beating red numbers screams 1:30pm. Fully awake now, the voice of Clint and Maria start to bother my headache, there's much needed Tylinol screaming my name from my room. So, I get up and head of the door ignoring the talking behind me.

In this big ship, you would think you would not bump into people so easily, guess this ship just hates me. Feint footsteps over power the sound of buzzing; twirling around and extending my arm out for a block, it clashes with a happy looking Hawkeye.

"What the hell, Barton?" Anger over rides my emotionless shield at the sight of a very cheery looking Clint. I realize our arms are crossed fists closed; of course he smiles, relaxing my shoulders the buzzing subdues.

"I thought you gave your little greeting up long ago," I smirk back. "I figured that we should remember the silly and the old, maybe this brainwashing thing would just break down without the use of more brainwashing... Or getting physical."

Scoffing I lean onto his arm, "really? I've broken brainwashing before, from the KGB and from S.H.E.I.L.D, I think I can handle this."

He hesitates looking for the right words. Hesitant, probably because I never told him about S.H.E.I.L.D, "anyway, but don't you remember the silly games we played?"

I nod as my tunnel vision starts to clear slowly.

"Remember when we would pull pranks on Tony right after we fought Loki a few months ago?" he says pushing me off his arm back into normal stance.

I nod thinking of the smoke bomb Clint threw at him. We stole his set of Avenger Rings he wanted us to wear and stashed them in Thor's Cereal Box and wrote prize rings on the outside of it. Thor almost ate one. We hid inside the stash of Helicopters on top of the tower playing UNO and threw them at each other as Tony rampaged through Stark Towers with his Iron Man suit. We made so many pranks that month just to get our minds off the Superhero business; he threatened to take our apartments on Stark Towers away.

"Clint? Come on, what's the point to this?" I say shifting my weight crossed arm. But internally I practically beg for those days to come back. We were so relaxed, so hypnotized by each other's movements; it hurts to think we have started to drift a little.

"We should play those again!"

In bewilderment, no words come to mind except the idea of being with him, laughing, and doing stupid things. I hesitate putting my wall back up, "were agents Clint."

His face displays a questioning look, but I can tell he is hurt as much as it was to say that.

"Fine, come on, let's go get your missed lunch," he puts his hand on my shoulder blade nudging me for the Kitchen. I just nod with a look of business forcing my mind to think back to Director Fury and his comment. _Well, since I am supposed to go to counselling, I guess... _I can feel his eyes gazing over towards me but I just turn my head feeling my face turn hot but not red yet.

We turn into the scattered kitchen where Thor smiles holding up some burnt bagels. I shake my head walking towards the cabinet to get a glass of water.

"How's Wonder woman?" Tony asks with a devilish look across his face. Cap push's him in the shoulder forcefully knocking him into the island, "hello to you to Steve," he shoots ice at Cap, but he just grins.

"Fine," I say hoping to walk out of here without yelling and knife throwing. I can already feel the knife Clint made me in my jacket pocket burning with an urge to be used.

It looks like a normal basic steak knife except when you open it; it reveals a stainless steel sleek blade with the carving of an arrow. He looked proud last Christmas when he gave it to me, except I felt petty about it since I got him an encrypted arrowhead that misspelt Agent by Tony... How he managed to misspell it boggled my mind for days. I threw a kitchen knife at Tony when no one was looking. It sniped his hair since he ducked like a helpless child.

**Sorry guys for the delay, ive gotten myself wrapped up with school that's FINALLY over! I have also gotten bad writers block so now my ideas have gotten really crappy... **


End file.
